Temptation
by gummibar
Summary: Maybe she doesn't understand the extent to which he cares about her. That he values her life more than his own. That if he lost her, he'd lose himself.


_Thank you. For everything you've ever done for me. I know that_

_I just can't stand being such a burden on your life. Everything you've ever done has been in my best interest, and I_

_Maybe this will make the fight easier. I won't be in the way any_

She sighs, the pen tumbling off of the desk and rolling amongst the carpet. She's re-written the note over, and over, and over again…

And she still can't find the right words to say

Are there any, though? Is there a "right" way to say goodbye?

She rests her face in her shaking hands as the tears begin spilling out of her eyes. Quiet sobbing fills the silence of her room. Brushing her sleeve against her flushed cheeks, she leans over and picks up the pen that lingers by it's lonesome against the hard floor.

"Dear Jeremie," she scribbles. _I'll just write whatever comes to mind first. It doesn't matter how dumb it sounds anyways. I won't be around for him to make fun of it. _"I'm sorry. I love you, and thank you. –A."

A single drop collapses onto the thin sheet that lies in her palms, staining the delicate paper. She folds up the note and stuffs it inside of her pocket, before letting the door gently shut behind her.

_This is the right thing to do, _she tells herself. She believes her entire existence alone is selfish. That she forces her friends to unwillingly fight for her. Jeremie never eats or sleeps, and Yumi is always getting in trouble with her parents, constantly being out past curfew. Ulrich is nearly flunking out of school, and to Odd, everything is just one big game. _I can't keep putting the people I love through this._

_I can't keep putting __myself__ through this._

She walks down the hallway with her solemn gaze focused on the thin fibers of the carpet beneath her. It's the only thing that can capture her interest anymore, but still; it scarcely does even that. The finest and most intricate details of Earth and everything it revolves around. Something as simple as carpet fibers used to be fascinating, but now… well, what more is there? It's just carpet.

She has no legal documentation; none that hasn't been forged, at least. No social security card; let alone a real number. No identity. Nowhere to live, no family to fall back on, and not a penny to her name. She is nothing. She literally doesn't exist.

If already not legally, then why not officially?

"Seal the deal_," _she barely whispers under her breath before stopping her tracks in front of his door. The door that may as well lead to her own home, unveiling a place where she can always be welcomed with open arms no matter the time of day or night. She has spent more days behind this particular door than her own. Does she want to knock? The thought is tempting, but ultimately the answer is no.

Instead, she silently reaches into her pocket, hoping the rustling of the crumpled note won't alert him of her presence. She bends downwards, tucking it underneath the crevice between the ground and the wood, and taps her fingers against the folded paper to quickly slip it in. Immediately, she spins around and scampers down the hallway to her final destination.

To the factory.

* * *

He sits in his room, working on a program as he always does in his free time. When is he ever not busy working on something? His friends go out and do things, and he rarely leaves his room. Ulrich plays soccer, Yumi trains and studies, Odd draws and skateboards—not to mention, flirts—and Aelita works on her music projects. All in their free time.

And what does he do in his free time? Nothing. He doesn't allow himself to have free time. His mind is constantly consumed by thoughts of XANA. Every waking moment of every day, he is on edge. Before XANA, friends were something he simply didn't have. Now that he _does _have them, he worries about them constantly. In a sense, he's the unspoken "leader." Because it's his responsibility to take care of them.

Especially Aelita.

He stops typing; now thinking about her. In fact, he comes to the realization that he hasn't heard from her all day. Perhaps he should go and visit her in her room. With a sigh, he shuts off the blaring monitor in front of him and slips out of his desk chair, into his shoes. Of course he could always just call her, but it's much more personal and pleasant to actually visit, isn't it?

As he is leaving his room, he notices a little white square resting on the carpet, just before his door. He leans down and scoops the sheet into his grasp, eagerly unfolding it. There is a single line beautifully scribbled onto the wrinkly paper, a script he recognizes without even reading.

"_Dear, Jeremie. I'm sorry. I love you, and thank you. – A"_

His mind draws a blank. He finds it difficult to even focus on the third line—the 'I love you'—and the rest of it makes no sense. She's sorry? Sorry for what?

He pockets the note, thinking that it's a good idea after all to visit her. Shutting the door behind him, he explores the halls that eventually leave him standing before the infamous door. The door that may as well lead to his second dorm, unveiling a place where he has spent countless nights by her side as she writhed in her nightmares. Perhaps he has spent more nights behind this particular door than his own.

He knocks, his knuckles gently rubbing against the fine wood. To his subtle surprise, though, there is no answer. Another knock, followed by the calling of her name. Pure silence. It takes him a few moments, but he decides to help himself inside. Slowly and delicately, he creaks the door open, needing only a split second to realize she's nowhere in sight. The worry begins to build inside of him and he removes his phone from his pocket, his fingers dialing the memorized numbers without his eyes even needing to glance. He urgently presses the phone against his ear in hopes she will pick up.

* * *

As she sprints across the bridge, her phone starts buzzing inside of her pocket. She stops before the ominous entrance to the factory, hesitantly pulling the mobile out of her jumper's pocket.

Incoming call: Jeremie.

She gapes for a second or two, wondering if she should pick up or not. This means only one thing: that he's seen the letter, and now he's chasing after her.

Now she has to act fast, before he catches up. She sighs heavily, with her eyes instantly welling up at the sudden thought that as of this very second, she will never see him again. But soon enough of course, it won't matter. She fights back tears, demanding to stay strong, and quickly realizes she missed the call.

_I shouldn't have even written a letter, _she regrets. _I should've just come straight here._

She frowns and walks towards the edge of the bridge, peering down at the murky water that lies below. It's the deepest shade of blue she's ever seen, and in all actuality, is quite beautiful. In fact, it reminds her of Jeremie's eyes.

Without a second thought, she lets her phone hover over the river below before letting it slip out of her dainty hand and plummet into the water. She watches the ripples scuttle across the surface before progressively fading away.

"My turn."

* * *

_Four…_

_Five…_

Nothing. The phone rings and rings until her answering machine picks up. His worry threatens to consume him, and he almost forgets to leave a message when he hears the beep on the other end.

"Ah—Aelita?" he stammers. "I haven't heard from you all day. Are you alright? Just, um, leave a message or something if you get this." _Click. _He wonders if it sounds too clingy to leave a message like that, but such a thought is immediately replaced. It's his job to check up on her, as it is his job to check up on all of his friends.

He contemplates heading back to his bedroom, but cannot bring himself to go there. Something is off, he can just sense it. If she were to be with Odd, Yumi, or Ulrich, her phone would most certainly be on. She knows just as well as any of them to make sure it always has battery life; that it's always on, ready in case of an emergency.

He waits a few minutes to see if she calls back, and disappointingly she doesn't. His fretfulness increases further. Where would she be, if not in her room?

She's run off before, he remembers as clear as day. During her first days on Earth, Sissi had sneered that she should run off back to Canada. Obeying her requests, she virtualized herself on Lyoko. Maybe something had happened and she was there, right now, inside of the factory. Her note was rather vague, giving him no reason to believe that she was or wasn't there. The thought gives him a pang of worry. Well, there's no reason not to check.

His feet take him to the passage in the park before he even registers he's walking. Swallowing harshly, he shifts the cover of the grate and lowers himself in, hoping he wouldn't actually find her on Lyoko, by herself.

Mentally, he curses her. _Why does she always have to run off like this and worry me?_

_No, that sounds selfish… I just hope she's all right._

* * *

The bridge has a thick, concrete barrier lined amongst the edge to protect those that wander along it, whether by foot or by car. Slowly and carefully, she hoists herself up onto the edge until she stands straight, wobbling a little and almost falling backwards. She gradually steadies herself, extending her arms outwards to keep balance. Her legs shake, her stomach tightens and her heart relentlessly thrashes inside of her chest.

It's far windier when you're standing over a never-ending body of water. Such wind gusts across her face and blows strands of her pink locks into her eyes, but if she were to move her hands to run them across her face, she'd surely topple over right then and there. Warm tears begin gushing outwards, streaming down her cheeks and burning against them as her soft skin remains numb from the cold of the wind. She swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to glance downwards.

_How deep is that water?_

It's calm and soothing. No crashing waves, no rapid currents… just, stagnant. And dark.

Waiting for her.

She starts to feel intimidated, and shuts her eyes.

* * *

He gets on his scooter and zips through the sewer passage, his heart pounding in his chest.

_There's nothing to worry about,_ he attempts to remind himself. _Nothing to worry about. Nothing to—_

—_Then why hasn't she answered?_

He kicks the ground furiously in attempt to speed up the scooter, but loses his balance and tumbles to the ground. With a yelp, he puts his hands outwards to catch himself, scraping them fairly badly in the process; as well as his knees. Shakily, he gets up from the floor, his palms stinging with the blood. But he's made it to the ladder, so he abandons his scooter and climbs upwards, grimacing with each grip.

The first thing he notices when he pokes his head out is how unbearably windy it us up here. Shivering, he stands nervously on the bridge, casing his arms around himself.

Then, he sees her.

He calls her name, but his voice becomes lost in the wind. It's so forceful that his eyes are beginning to tear up, and he takes his glasses off for only a brief moment to wipe them. Again, he calls out to her, while taking a step forward. He can't tell what she's doing, and he certainly can't tell if she can hear him.

* * *

The wind kicks up, as if it's trying to knock her straight over; trying to help her. The water calls out to her, and the wind is trying to give her the head start. _So then why can't I do it?_

_Come on, Aelita. You wanted this. This was your idea. Come on._

_I can't do it._

Her entire body starts quaking, her silent tears transforming into steady weeping. She cannot move an inch.

The wind clatters against her body and batters against her ears, almost blocking her hearing—but she can still make out the faintest calling of her name.

"Aelita!"

She gasps with confusion and spins around, seeing the familiar blonde rushing out of the sewer grate. She's taken too much time, and now he's found her. So, now what? Her heart starts whipping against her chest so profoundly that she feels as if it's going to burst out of her any moment, falling straight into the depths of water that lie below.

_Come on, Aelita. It's now or never!_

Jeremie doesn't move; rather, he just stares at her. Perhaps he doesn't realize exactly what her plan is. She wonders what he could think she's doing, but then realizes that even she herself doesn't know what she's doing. She whimpers and chokes, the only thing she finds herself able to do at this point. Her teardrops spiral out of her eyes, collapsing into the still river below. She's nervous, scared, and also pressured, but finds herself completely petrified; as stone as the bridge itself.

* * *

She looks at him now, her expression blank as far as he can see. Until he squints harder, realizing her face is far from blank. In fact, she looks fairly distressed. But before he can discern anything else, she turns away from him without another word.

He calls to her again, taking another step closer. The only thing he can notice is that she's staring at the water, and it makes him nervous.

"Aelita, hey! Answer me!" Another step, but for some reason, he can't run up to her. It's as if she's exuding some sort of energy that drives him away from her. He becomes overwhelmed with the inexplicable feeling that she doesn't want him there.

There's no possible way for him to know what it is she's thinking, but it makes him nothing less than uncomfortable.

"Aelita," he calls again, with urgency in his voice. "Are you…okay?" It's the only thing his flustered mind can think to say.

"No," she snaps, still focused on the water with her eyes tightly shut. "I'm not okay." She mutters through gritted teeth and sobs. _What a dumb question. I'm standing here about to jump to my death, and he has the nerve to ask if I'm okay?_

_Woah, calm down, 'Lita. He's just trying to help._

She sighs and clenches her fists at her sides before opening her eyes and peering downwards. Her goal is to explore past the layers of the sea, but it's so dusky, gloomy and thick that no one could possibly visualize past the surface. Are there fish down there? Is there…anything alive? Is there a mask of algae and seaweed waiting to tangle against her body and tug her downwards?

She can see her teardrops creating gentle waves across the top. Just one little step forward. That's all it will take.

_Come on, Aelita. You can do this…_

…_but not with Jeremie here._

"Go. Away," she spits, digging her fingers into her palms until her knuckles are white.

* * *

He approaches her the rest of the way. To his alarm, she appears to be crying, her expression a twisted one. "H-hey, I was just asking!" he defends, taking the final step needed until he stands directly beside her. "What's wrong?" he asks, albeit softer this time. "You can tell me anything. I… I promise."

He attempts to rest his hand against her back, a gentle touch to bring her comfort, but she snaps at him.

"_Go. Away."_

His hand freezes in midair, and he backs away from her. _What—what did I do? Why is she so insistent that I leave?_

"Are you mad at me for something…?" He inquires, growing more and more confused. "Please just tell me what's wrong…"

* * *

She loses it at that moment, standing there and consistently sobbing.

"I'm…sorry," she chokes. _And I am sorry. Sorry that you have to deal with this. That you have to see me like such a mess._

Her entire body starts trembling, and suddenly she becomes flooded with coldness and with fear. She raises her hand to her cheek in an attempt to brush away the tears that flow down her face, but the movement throws off her balance. With a terrified gasp, she rocks back and forth slightly, and her heart skips a beat so powerfully that she goes light headed for a moment. But she doesn't fall.

* * *

He merely stares with his heart clenching. What can he do to comfort her? Why is she apologizing? She hasn't done anything that she needs to apologize for.

"Sorry for what…?" he stands completely frozen and also completely perplexed, not knowing how he can conceivably approach her.

And then she stumbles, and his breath hooks in his throat. She perches so dangerously close to the edge of the bridge that for a horrifying moment he thinks she'll fall, and with instinct he lunges forward. But she regains her balance, leaving him to skid to a halt.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he manages to croak, his voice feeble. "I don't know what you're apologizing about, b-but I'm sure it's nothing, Aelita. Won't you come back to the dorms with me? It's awfully windy out here…"

* * *

"For everything," she manages through fits of tears. "All I do is make your life miserable. You should have never turned that supercomputer back on."  
She wraps her arms around herself and shivers, her lips quivering as they are met with the salty taste of tears. In the distance, she can hear the cawking of some sort a bird. Shuddering cruelly, she glances up towards the blazing sun as she sees it's silhouette fluttering over the factory.

A crow. Crows represent death.

* * *

"For…what?" No, she's wrong. It's the exact opposite. But how can he ever get through to her? "I've never regretted turning on the supercomputer," he says, feeling himself grow absolutely hopeless with every word. "I'm glad I did, and you know that. Don't be silly."

He walks up behind her once more, growing completely desperate. "Come on, we should really get back, or at least… at least go into the factory if you want to talk…it's more sheltered in there." Her demeanor is spooking him, and he wants to get away from the bridge and the wind and the outside as soon as possible.

* * *

She looks back down at the water, before glancing over her shoulder to observe him and his reactions. The look on his face. He's scared. No, not even that. He's more than scared. He's panicked and distraught. And suddenly, she feels even more selfish than before. Thinking that keeping herself alive would be selfish, when in fact, dying would be just as much, if not more. He's right.

_I want to go home. I don't want to do this anymore. _She gives the fair-haired boy a slight nod, slowly angling her foot so that she may turn around cautiously. He stands as close as he can, outspreading his hand so she has something to grip onto when she steps down. She stretches out her arms once again for balance, wobbling slightly. The wind fiercely blows against them both, and her nervousness and fear distracts her for the tiniest second. Her ankle bends inwards oh so slightly, but the elusive action causes the greatest price. She slips, shrieking frantically as she falls backwards. Within a second, she goes from standing almost nose-to-nose, to dangling desperately at least several feet beneath him.

"Jeremie!" She instinctively cries. There is a rusted rail hanging beneath the bridge that she latches onto, whilst glowering down at the impending depths that float beneath. Suddenly the water doesn't look as peaceful, now that she's looming over it. "Help!"

_Yeah, I've definitely changed my mind._

* * *

"AELITA!" He urgently screams, leaping towards her. But it is too late. She's already fallen, and now she's clinging to almost nothing. Calling to her. To pull her up.

_I have to._

_But… _he hesitates for a split millisecond as the information processes. _I can't pull Aelita up. It's—It's not possible._

_Well, you have to. If you don't, she's going to die._

He rushes forward, his head pounding so hard that he's afraid he's going to throw up. Fear. Helplessness. Panic. The water churns beneath her, lurking there to swallow up the most important person in his life.

He reaches both of his hands over the edge as far as he can stretch. "I'll—I'll pull you up," he says to her amidst a horribly shaking voice. His ears are ringing. It's an empty promise. _I'm not strong enough. I'm not… I have to be. I have to be strong enough. Somehow. "_Just—just take my hands, and I'll pull you up."

* * *

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid._

_Now look at this mess you've gotten yourself into, 'Lita._

"I can't reach!" she yelps, stretching her tiny arm as far as she feasibly can. Her other arm is needed to latch around the old rail that practically cuts into her skin. Her fingertips just barely brush against his. So close, but not close enough. Nowhere near close enough to get a grip. "Jeremie!" she cries again. She can't even recognize his face past the tears that cloud her vision. She can hear the crow's call again in the distance, masked by the wind that drums against her fragile body.

She gazes down at the water, feeling sick.

* * *

He's crying himself now. He wanted to remain calm in the face of danger, but for what? Aelita is on the verge of death. He feels her fingertips brush against his, and the touch makes him plunge further into despair. She's so close. So, so close. He struggles to lean further over the railing—to see if he can stretch his arms any farther.

"You have to!" he orders, his despairing voice cracking. He's losing it now. This is everything he's ever had nightmares about come to life. "Come on! Please! You can do it! You have to! I can't—I can't—"

_I can't lose you._

* * *

"JEREMIE!" she begs, reaching as far as she can to grab his hand. She's only an inch away, if even that. The anxiety pulses throughout her veins. Her head hurts. Her heart is racing, her stomach is jerking. She extends her body as much as she can, but as a result, the other hand that so franticly clings onto the corroded railing slips a bit. She yells out, retracting her fingers away from his as she now requires both arms to tightly wrap around the rod the same way she embraces her own Mr. Puck. Her palms are too sweaty to even keep a stable grip. If she doesn't get out of this mess soon, she's going to fall into that water whether she likes it or not. She glances back up at him, and then back at the water. It feels as if it's getting closer. And then she looks back at Jeremie once more.

* * *

His whole body shudders. "Do…not…let…go," he gasps between frantic, shaky breathes. He's extending his hands as far as he can without toppling over the edge himself. "You _have _to grab ahold of my hands," he pleads, but it comes out as merely a pathetic whisper. "I—I don't know what else—what else to do…" but she can't reach. "Come on, _please. _You _have _to." All he can do at this point is continue to repeat the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results.

_I need her not to fall. I __need __her not to fall. But I can't do anything. How will I prevent that? I… I can't._

* * *

"I can't reach!" she weeps, tightly shutting her eyes as she looks away and hangs onto the discolored bar for dear life. She doesn't want to look at him, nor does she want to look at the water. She just wants to pretend this isn't happening. She wishes it truly wasn't.

_I'm so, so stupid._

She inhales deeply, a meager attempt at relaxing herself before forcing herself to look around. The situation has become dire, and she explores her surroundings, trying to find _something _that will get her out of the face of danger. _Anything. _They're both desperate at this point.

She can't reach Jeremie's hands. It's just not going to happen. Along the wall of the abandoned building, there is a set of stairs halfway above and halfway under the water, linking to the factory. It would offer a place to safely rest while waiting for a way to get back above sea-level, but the only way to get there is down… and the fall alone might kill her.

A sudden, eerie creaking snaps her out of her train-wreck of thoughts.

She peeps over and sees one of the worn bolts slide out of it's slot, and the railing bends downwards oh so gently. She watches in sheer horror as the decayed screw falls into the water below, a small 'plink' following.

It will not hold her body weight much longer.

"Jeremie, how cold is this water?" she panics. She could dive and try and swim over to the stairs, but if it's going to throw her into a hypothermic shock, it won't be any more helpful than pitifully trying to grasp for his hand.

* * *

He notices that she's greatly trying to calculate her way out of this disaster, but there are hardly any options. Following her gaze, he can see what she's thinking about; but they're all nothing less than risky. He needs something fail-proof, something that will actually work to get her out of here.

Then he hears a creak. Frantically, he glances down to see that the barrier Aelita is clutching onto is starting to bend.

_No. No, no, no. We're running out of time._

"_How cold is the water?"_

"Cold," he squeaks back without thinking. He had nearly frozen to death in that sewery water once; and he also hadn't fallen into it from such a high distance. Plus, it is not only cold outside; but also windy. The water temperature surely is far icier than it had been when he himself had taken a dip.

He remembers something just then—a little raft on the side of the river. Odd had mentioned using it once to escape the XANA possessed rats. If she did happen to fall, he could push it over to her—he could get to her before she froze…

"If—if you can hold on for… another minute, I can… the raft," he splutters, finding it nearly impossible to get his words out. "Since I—I can't reach you."

* * *

Her eyes remain locked on him. The raft? Of course, the raft! Suddenly she feels almost reassured, but still pants with anguish. The wind rages bleakly and causes her to shiver; and the more she shakes, the less she can tightly hold on. All she manages is a simple nod.

Another, gruesome screech.

She feels her body shift downwards as the other bolt slips out, tumbling into the murky waters below.

"Jeremie, hurry!" she begs. The rail is too old, rusted and puny to hold the weight of her body much longer. Jeremie said to hold on for a minute, but she doesn't even know if she _has _a minute.

* * *

He runs.

He runs faster than he's ever run in his entire life, and all the while he can barely breathe.

_I'm never going to make it… I'm never going to make it… I'm never going to… going to…_

He can feel the wind stinging at his blistered palms where he scraped them earlier. His chest contracts and he feels dizzy. If there wasn't so much on the line, he'd surely collapse.

But he can't let that happen. He has to pull through.

He reaches the raft knowing that Aelita has only seconds before she's going to fall into the middle of the river, and if he's not there to pull her out…

He drags the raft with every ounce of force in his scrawny body. It's far heavier than expected, and he can feel his already miniscule muscles straining with exertion. Every inhalation is a shuddering gasp, every exhalation is a sob.

_I have to get the raft to the water. I have to._

There's still about twenty more feet left to go, and his entire frame feels numb. Still he pulls. He dreads the moment where he'll hear that splash, and it will be too late. How will he even paddle the thing over if he has no upper body strength?

_Focus, Jeremie, focus._

* * *

_Come on, Aelita. Hold on for just a few more moments. Come on. You can do this, Aelita._

Creaaaaak.

The other pin goes. The familiar splash. She lets out another horrified scream as her helpless body is yanked downwards. The rail hangs vertically from the bridge, and she dangles her legs in mid-air as she anxiously holds on to what little is left.

More creaking. So very slowly and gradually, as if it's teasing her. She keeps eyeing downwards for brief seconds, observing the arctic water that eagerly lies below. That has to be at least a 40 foot drop.

"Jeremie!" she screeches as deafeningly as she possibly can.

Another shrill scrape as the brittle metal finally tears away from it's supports. She releases a blood curdling, distressed shriek.

The wind tugs at her skin as she plunges towards the marine. Her ears cannot make out any sounds other than that of the air as it pounds against her delicate drums, and she watches herself dive towards her own death.

_This is it for me. This is really it._

The ominous blue gets closer and closer, until…

Splash.

It feels like a thousand frozen knives piercing into her body as her back crashes against the subzero water.

It's freezing, and as she opens her eyes she can see nothing but darkness. A dirty looking shade of teal that increasingly fades away into a midnight blue, and then a blackest black. Bubbles circle around her. There are no fish, no algae and certainly no seaweed. Nothing. The call of the crow echoes from above; stifled against the water that thrashes against her ears.

She's too panicked to try and swim, and she also failed to take a deep enough breath. She won't last much longer under the surface. She strains to kick herself upwards, but it's so, so cold. Her figure is as stiff as a rock. Everything hurts.

_Jeremie, where are you?_

* * *

He hears her screams, and he lunges the raft forward into the water, adrenaline making up for the strength he doesn't have. Frantically, he grabs both paddles and begins to push his way towards the spot that eagerly calls out to her, waiting to swallow her. It's slow going, and—

Splash.

He stops for a split second to look up, a mistake he wishes he hadn't made. He can see her disappearing below the surface as the water splish-splashes upwards and his heart—pounding from exhaustion—now threatens to give out from absolute terror.

His arms throb with agony, but at this point it's the least of his worries and he can hardly notice. The raft inches towards her at a remarkably slow rate, and he feels like screaming towards the heavens.

And then he reaches the spot in the water that bubbles gently before fading away into a still surface. Urgently, he dunks his hands into the frigid water and shudders—it's so cold he feels as if his hands have just been stabbed. He can't imagine what _she _feels like under there. He continues reaching deeper, forcing himself not to slide off of the raft.

_How deep is this water, anyway?_

Another pang of fear overcomes him, and he submerses his entire head. The water is cloudy and he can see almost nothing, especially with his glasses, but—

A shape.

Half is torso is now underwater, and he grasps anxiously at her as she floats solemnly. A couple of swipes and he manages to feel her arm within his hand. He grips onto her with the other hand, towing her body upwards. He strains from the effort, but convinces himself it's manageable, _as water floats, and the human body is mostly—_

_Really, Jeremie? Really. Of all the times to be calming yourself down with science. _

Finally his grabbing fingers manage to tug her head and shoulders into the raft, and with a bit more effort, her entire body. It's a wonder how he doesn't capsize the entire thing right then and there. She's sopping wet, and her entire body feels like an icicle to the touch and he shivers just looking at her. At this point he can't even tell if she's breathing or not. He pulls her head into his chest, giving an outcry of sheer relief when he hears the faintest thumping of her weak pulse.

He holds her in his arms, warm tears running down his face and cutting through the ice water.

"Aelita..." he moans throughout a steady whisper.

* * *

Her lungs scream for air.

_Are you happy, Aelita? You got what you wanted. Doesn't feel so good, does it?_

She can feel herself slipping away. The shades of teal and blue are becoming darker and darker, but suddenly she can hear her name as a muffled cry above the surface. She feels something tugging at her shoulders.

_Jeremie._

The force causes her to gasp—a horrid idea. She ends up taking a mouthful of frozen water that instantly swerves down into her aching lungs.

She is tugged out of the water just in time as she cries for oxygen. Her body thuds against the harsh material of the raft, and she sees a blur of blonde hovering over her as he pulls her towards him.

But she still needs air. Her lungs remain overflowing with water and her chest feels as if it's crystalizing into ice.

Her vision fades and her body grows weaker. She manages tiny wheezes with the nearly non-existent cabin of air left inside of her, but it still not enough.

* * *

He knows she can't breathe. He knows that even though she's lying before him on the raft alive she still can't breathe. He was too late before she ingested so much water.

_No. I'm not giving up._

Almost without thinking, he leans down and presses his mouth to her own. He never thought he'd actually be in a position where he'd need to use what he learned from Jim's CPR class.

Tilting her head back slightly, he breathes into her mouth, forcing the oxygen inside of her. He examines her chest for a sign of breathing, but he can't even tell so he continues the actions. He is beyond feelings of embarrassment at this point. Perhaps it will bother him later, but for now, he is desperate. He leans back on his in-step, waiting. For anything at all.

Her eyelids shoot open and she gasps sharply before entering a harsh fit of coughing. The water spits out of her mouth and she feels as if she's breathing ice when she is forced to once again adjust to the feeling of cold, dry air in her warm lungs. Above her towers three, blurry Jeremies that gradually morph back into one as she continuously flutters her eyelids.

She lightly chokes his name, feeling miserable, frightened and cold. Instantly he reaches down and pulls her back into his embrace, but the only words that escape her mouth are sheepish apologies. Over and over again.

_She's awake. Oh, God. She's awake._

Anxiety turns to restless relief, and he stares down at her, overwhelmed with absolute concern. Dimly, she utters his name, and he takes no time to pull her into his arms once again.

"You're okay," he croaks, his mind numb. _She's okay. _"You're okay…" and all she's doing is apologizing. With each added 'I'm sorry,' his heart breaks a little. "Why—why are you sorry? You're alright…"

He breaks down then. A sob escapes his throat, and then another, before the tears are flowing consistently out of his sorrowful eyes. His entire body convulses.

"Ae—Aelita," he moans, holding her soaked body close to his; unable to form coherent sentences through the cries that catch in his throat. Although she's alright now, the misery of what almost happened still pries at his mind, and he sits in the raft holding her close, unable to do anything other than wail.

* * *

"I'm s—s—sorry," she trips over her words, with her glimmering pink hair now almost dark red from the mud and the water. "B—b—because this is all m—my f—fault! I'm s—so s—s—stupid!" She can't tell if she's shaking so much from the trauma or the cold; more than likely both. In fact, she's absolutely freezing. All she wants is to go back to the dorms, to collapse in her bed and encase herself in her dry, warm comforters. She burrows her face deeper against his drenched chest, an attempt to block out her surroundings. To forget about the unfriendly wind, the roiling water and the dusty factory. The vehement sun that quickly sinks beyond the horizon and the eerie crow that never ceases it's cries. She doesn't want to feel the draft from the marine's edge or hear the gentle rustling of it's minute waves. All she wants is to leave, to go back to the dorms. Somewhere dry and warm, in hopes of never having to return to this bridge again.

But they both know that can't happen, and she'll be back here soon enough when XANA attacks again; forced to relive the events. For now though, that doesn't matter. It's a worry that will be saved for another time, another place.

"Get me out of here," she softly demands while coiling her fingers tighter against the soaked threads of his turtleneck. It doesn't matter whether or not he's as sodden as she is; something about him still emits a comforting heat despite the iced liquid that marinates his body.

* * *

His body quivers with his jeweled teardrops, seeming to sparkle against his cheeks as the orange horizon shines upon his face. He knows he needs to stop, to take charge. He's not being much of a strong savior for her when he himself sits in tears. The wooden paddle remains off to the side where he had tossed it to grab her, and he feels sudden thankfulness that he hadn't chucked it overboard in haste. With a bit of effort, he begins paddling the miniature boat back to the water's edge. Now that Aelita is with him, he knows very well just how rigid and anguished his arms are, but he does his best to not emit painted grunts with each motion.

At the "shore" of the river, he sets down the ore and notices a rope hanging from one of the poles that stand to support the bridge. With frail, juddering hands and several failed attempts, he manages to get the raft grounded. She rests hidden in his chest, and he's troubled to move her even the tiniest bit.

"Can you walk?" he tenderly whispers against her hair. If the answer is no, well, he's not quite sure he can carry her at this point. Although of course he will try.

* * *

With every movement he makes, she finds herself cleaving even tighter to him as if it's a reflex or natural instinct. The last thing she wants to do is let go. After all, she had almost just let go of _everything. _

She heeds no attention to the events that conspire around her, but when she feels herself moving slightly she looks up and notices the pathetic little raft has been docked, and he's asking her to stand and walk.

Simply, she nods at his request sits upwards, wiping her dripping sleeves across her pale, distraught face. As to be expected it doesn't help; already soaked sleeves aren't going to do any good at drying her tears.

The footing is unnervingly uneven, and with each movement she makes she sways somewhat, dreading that she's going to drop backwards straight into the water. She can't help but continue to gawk at the rushing blue liquid as she snugly holds her frail body, shivering violently with her teeth chattering against each other. Her knees tremble too much for her to keep balance; and this mixed with her immense fear of falling causes her to collapse against the disheveled blonde once more. She refuses to take another step without leaning against him for support.

* * *

He helps her off of the raft, allowing her to hang onto his body. She's beyond chilly, but he's not very warm himself; and so there's not much that can be done without getting back to Kadic.

They walk for a while, slowly, with the distressed woman staggering against him. By the time they return to the park over a span of time that seems like forever, she's a bit drier; but not significantly.

He almost lost her today. Doesn't she know better than to be so close to the edge of the bridge like she was? Why was she just staring—wait.

A horrible thought dawns on him then, something he's surprised he hadn't realized before. The bridge, the note, telling him to leave…

_Had she been… going to…?_

He stops walking for a moment. The dorms are so close, but nonetheless, he stops.

"Aelita…" he gabbles. Although the incident is over and done with now, his voice still jumps and his heart still batters. It will take a long time before this can ever be left in the past. "Wh—why were you out there alone like that? That note…" He trails off. He knows. His throat closes; he can't look at her without that feeling of despair overtaking him again.

* * *

She clutches onto his arm as he guides her away from the factory, through the woods and towards the part. She digs her face into his damp sleeve, letting him direct her along the way.

_I'm so stupid. Pathetic, useless and weak. _She feels worse now than she did earlier.

The sun is setting lightly beyond the forest, and she shudders as she watches the sunlight disappear along with the small amount of warmth it provides. It will be dark soon, and cold. Very cold. Her dress is so sodden that it clings to her clammy, porcelain skin. Each step she takes makes a gruesome sloshing sound as her foot squishes against the puddles in her boots. The wind is as fierce as ever, wisping across her face and burning her eyes as she looks straight ahead. It only gives her more reason to hide her face away in the crevices of Jeremie's arm. Her stringy wet hair crackles like icicles as the frigid air dries the strands into frost.

Then he stops, without warning.

"Aelita," he drones, looking down at her as his eyes gloss over with intense fear. He stares directly into her eyes and asks why she was standing at the bridge. What the note was for, what she was trying…

"You mean…" she manages to crack through her achingly dry voice. "You hadn't realized?"

Tears begin to pool in her eyes once again, but at least the drops are warm compared to the ice that swarms inside of her.

The entire day has been a constant switch between crying, silence, and screaming.

* * *

"_You mean… you hadn't realized?"_

Well, he certainly realized now. Perhaps he had known the entire time, somewhere within him, and he refused to admit it. "Never mind," he croaks whilst anxiously biting his lip.

He can't really handle talking about it. That's how weak he is. He doesn't want to mention it ever again, but it's eating at him like a parasite. It's absurd, but a wave of responsibility comes washing over him. He's always tried to protect Aelita, and he's failed miserably. She—she just tried to—and he barely got there in time to stop it. What would happen next time? What if… What if there _is _a next time?

Maybe she doesn't understand the extent to which he cares about her. That he values her life more than his own. That if he lost her, he'd lose himself.

He opens his mouth to tell her that, but he freezes. _Aelita's not the weak one, I am. If I had been a better friend, if I had kept a better watch on her, this would never have happened. If anything, I should have at least run when I saw her on the bridge, and not frozen like an idiot._

It's not like this is the first time. She'd done it before by turning off the supercomputer when she was still linked to XANA. He thought, selfishly, that his care for her would be enough to make her realize she was needed. But it wasn't enough.

He can't say it. The only thing that leaves his lips is, "…Let's head back."

_Worthless._

He walks with her, wordlessly, to the dorms. Hating himself for being of so little help to her. _I can never do enough. Nothing I do will ever be enough._

* * *

He glowers at her for a solid moment, before coldly stating, "Let's head back." Almost as if it's an order.

After that, not a single word is spoken for the rest of the walk back. She wishes she knew what he was thinking about. He probably hates her, now. She wishes he had never shown up at that bridge, dreading that he had to see that. It isn't fair. Certainly not to her, but not to Jeremie either.

_See, Aelita? This is exactly what I'm talking about when I say you're nothing but a burden to your friends. _She let's go of Jeremie's arm, walking by her lonesome after suddenly receiving the vibe that he doesn't want her touching him. He probably doesn't want anything to do with her. She looks up, and notices that it's getting dark fast.

_I just want my blanket. My dorm. Heat. _

She stares at her feet aimlessly as she walks, her steps crunching against the frosted grass that coats the forest's path. She knows not what Jeremie is thinking or feeling, and at the same time she's not sure she wants to. She's convinced that the only thing basking in his mind right now is sheer negativity. Negativity aimed towards _her_, for her actions. She sure that he absolutely loathes her now.

_I'm so stupid. He will never look at me again._

The more she thinks she can feel a familiar stream of wetness against her cheek. Stopping briefly, she gently touches her numb fingertips against her soft face. She tries her hardest to fight back the tears, thinking that he doesn't need to see her any weaker than she already is. For the rest of the pace, she falls behind a step or two, tears silently spilling out of her eyes with her form viciously quavering against the cold.

* * *

A moment passes after his hollow statement, and he senses a slight feeling of emptiness as Aelita tears herself away from him, trailing behind him. Blinking, he looks back at her. Her expression is a miserable one, but unreadable. He gets the feeling she doesn't want him next to her anymore, and the thought makes his heart sink. Is she upset with him for not saying anything more meaningful? Or because he had almost let her lose herself? Or perhaps because he stopped her in the first place.

_If she wants to stay behind, that's fine. _He has to keep telling that to himself, but just thinking makes him lose control of his emotions again. He's glad he's walking in front of her now, so that she can't witness him as tears start sheeting down out of his tired eyes.

Once he reaches the door of the building, they've stopped. The empty feeling still remains, though.

He turns to look at her before opening the door. She clearly doesn't want to be around him, and so he lowers his gaze and opens the door for her, letting her take the first steps. He stills says nothing.

* * *

The silence is killing her and makes the time go by twice as slow. Finally though, she hears the creaking of her door as she looks up and realizes they've made it back to the dorms. She feels like warmth from her heater swoop out of the room, almost begging to carry her inside.

She takes a step inwards, without uttering a word, and then she stops. She lets her arms, which had been so tightly hugging her frame, fall to her sides. Jeremie still hasn't said anything, but she turns around to look at him with tears consistently pouring out.

"Are… are you mad at me?" She whimpers, dropping her gaze back to the ground and hiding her face in her palms. "I'm… I'm sorry…" She can't think of anything else to say, but she's still cold and frightened and doesn't want to be alone. The last thing she needs is Jeremie resenting her.

She's about to go into her room, where he'll lose her once again. Not the same way as earlier, but they haven't spoken and he's afraid something has broken between them. All he's done since they'd left the forest is escort her like she was his shadow, turning around not even once. _I'm pathetic._

* * *

She stops and spins around to face him. To his despair, he can see now that she's crying. Hard. He hadn't even noticed because it was silent. How inattentive could he possibly have been not to notice that?

"_Are… are you mad at me?"_

_Aelita…_

He takes a step forward. And then another. And without thinking, he flings his arms around her, pulling her close. "Of c—course not!" he moans, his voice shaking. Part of him wants to cry out, but he knows he'll wake people if he does. "I was so—so scared… of course I'm not mad, why would I be mad?" It's hard for him not to break down again. "J—just don't do that again!" he pleads.

* * *

_He's… he's not angry? He's not angry…_

She can feel his voice shaking almost as much as mine would be, if he could speak that is. He finds herself smiling against her tears because she feels so relieved that he's not angry with her. That in all actuality, she didn't mess up anything between them. She holds onto him tightly and further squeezes herself against him. In fact, she never wants to let go. She thought it would be selfish of her to keep making her friends fight like this, but maybe the reality is that it would be selfish her to pull a stunt like that and cause everyone to live with the aftermath. Especially Jeremie…

"I'm…" she breathes. "I'm sorry." The only words she can come up with. And then he begs, cries for her, to never do such a thing again. "I won't, I promise," she immediately reassures.

He's freaking out. He's trembling so much that it feels as if he's about to collapse. _And it's all because of me. Even when I'm trying to do them a favor, I—_

_No, Aelita. Now is not the time to further beat yourself up._

It's been a rough day. It's time to call it a night.

* * *

"Don't apologize," he softly orders, forcing himself to stop shaking. She's already distressed enough as it is; it won't do to allow himself to be even more upset than she is. "Listen, Aelita," he whispers again, unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. "Next time you're feeling…uh…something…don't hesitate to talk to me—us—before you do anything… er, rash." He steps back from her, tilting her chin towards him as he looks her square in the face. Her eyes usually glimmer like emeralds, but tonight they seem…dull, almost. Empty. "You're not alone, okay?" he manages a feeble smile, though it comes off looking a bit strained.

She smiles in return.

He offers a place to stay for the night, and she slips into her own room for barely a minute to change into dry clothing. He wanders down the hall, spending the seconds waiting for her while furiously scrubbing at the scum caked on his eyeglasses, the residue of the misty water. A solid memory of what could have possibly been. He cringes, but becomes distracted as she knocks gently on his door.

Immediately she sits on his bed, wrapping herself up in his blanket. He doesn't hesitate to join her side.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asks.

* * *

She doesn't pay attention. While looking at him, her mind flashes back to earlier. To the wind crashing against her back as she hovers over the water, the look on his face as she slips off of the edge. She had come _so _close. It had happened multiple times on Lyoko, but someone was always there to save the day. If Jeremie were only a second or two later, then… she might not even be sitting there right now. But she _wanted _that.

And as she looks at him now, she recognizes how stupid that was. She looks at him as he raises his eyebrows at her silence, his lips almost curling into the faintest frown that signals concern. He looks…stressed, almost. But she's seen Jeremie stressed before, like when he's spent all night working on anti-XANA programs. This is a different kind of stress, and I'm not quite sure how to describe it. He looks pained, but also relieved… and she assumes it's because she's still here. Here sitting next to him, here in his room… _here. _On this Earth.

"Yes," she exhales in a barely audible whisper. A small shiver crawls up her spine, reminding her that her hair is still pretty damp. She tugs the blanket tighter around her bones.

* * *

He can't tell what she's thinking. As he watches her, he can see the wheels turning inside her head, but he hasn't the slightest clue what's going on. If he knew those kinds of things, well… he could have stopped her from doing what she almost did earlier.

No. He had to make himself not think like that. It was unproductive.

Aelita means the world to him, and losing her would mean the end of _his _world. He is so, so grateful that he managed to stop her, but…what if it was only a temporary fix? All he can do is hope that what he said got through to her, that the next time she'll talk to him before doing something that would hurt herself—or the people who care about her.

Patiently, he waits for her reply. He's not sure whether to believe her or not, because it could be merely another cover up. But all he can do is take it at face value for now. He notices her jump as a cold chill consumes her.

"Do you want me to get extra blankets?" he offers. "There are some in the closet."

* * *

"Hmmm?" a lax mumble escapes her mouth as she leans back and burrows her head against the soft, cushioned pillows. They feel like clouds against her aching head, and she thinks Jeremie may be talking about something, but she can't bring herself to listen. She simply doesn't have the energy. Her surroundings gradually fade away, and she finds herself falling into the deep slumber that her exhausted body has been screaming for.

_Sweet dreams, Jeremie._

* * *

Seeing Aelita relax takes a massive weight off of his shoulders. If she can sleep, that means that whatever was nagging at her before is slowly leaving her consciousness. In that case, there's no reason for him to stay awake watching over her. With that in mind, he curls up next to her, realizing as he tries to get comfortable how exhausted and sore he is from the physical exertion of the rescue. Slowly, he drifts off himself.

_Sweet dreams, Aelita._

* * *

The day had begun with a simple letter.

Three vague lines that could have meant only one thing; or it could have meant absolutely nothing at all.

And the day ended with a pair, nearly drowning in their own tears.

The same way she had almost drowned earlier.

Desperately clinging onto one another as if they'll never see each other again…

Because if he had been a minute later, they might not have.

_Ende_


End file.
